The Day I Break
by feathers-theangel
Summary: Everyone's been getting tired of Dean and Castiel's relentless sexual tension. But then they find themselves fighting a once-witch-turned-demon who is intent on destroying the world like Lucifer didn't. And when Gabriel decides to come out of hiding, things go downhill faster than anyone thought possible.
1. A Simple Misunderstanding

Dean was pissed. This wasn't the first time Castiel hadn't shown up on time, but he had always called Sam to let them know. Especially after the last time, when Dean had yelled at Cas for worrying him and accidentally woke up Sam, who proceeded to call Dean 'mother hen' for the rest of the week. (There were some really weird looks from pretty waitresses and Dean was _not_ going through that again, damnit.)

And this time was different, because he'd promised to eat dinner with them. They'd even bought extra food, but it sat there growing cold as the minutes turned into hours and Dean finally ate the burger that they had left for the angel. Sam had gone to bed hours ago, and so Dean had been left to his own thoughts, none of which were good. He was worried for the angel, although he'd never admit it.

Castiel had been acting strange lately, almost skittish. He hadn't been around much, and every time he was he refused to stay long. Dean got that he was an Angel of the Lord, and had other things to do besides hanging out with two lowly humans, but he missed Cas. He'd never utter those words to any living soul, but yeah, he missed Cas.

He was pacing back and forth in front of the cheap motel beds, agitated. He glanced at the clock again. It was 2:34 am, and they had to leave in the morning to deal with a witch in Utah. Dean sighed and finished the last of his beer, then made his way into the bathroom. He started getting undressed and let the shower run for a few minutes to warm up. He got in and let the hot water just run down his body, relishing the warmth and letting it undo all the knots in his muscles. Dean stood there until he was dead on his feet. He got out and wrapped a towel around his middsection and grabbed the mouthwash, too tired to brush his teeth.

"Hello Dean."

Dean was so surprised that he almost swallowed the mouthwash and ended up coughing and sputtering over the sink. He looked over at Castiel, eyes watering. Cas was just standing there staring, which made Dean feel incredibly uncomfortable and he grabbed the towel on his waist to make sure it didn't fall off or anything.

"What the hell, man?" Dean asked angrily, because inexperienced or not, you do not just pop into the bathroom unannounced. Cas seemed to be mulling over his  
words, because he had a slightly puzzled sort of expression and didn't answer.

Dean sighed. "No, you know what, don't answer. I'm too tired to be dealing with your shit, Cas. I'm going to bed."

"I don't understand." Cas said, and now he really did look confused. "You're angry."

"Yes Cas, I'm angry, because you completely blew us off when you said you'd be here, not to mention the fact that you just popped into the bathroom without a single freaking warning!"

Dean was yelling rather loudly and he thought it had something to do with how tired he was or the fact that he wasn't all that sober, but he kept rambling on anyways because he wanted to make a point to Cas. Or at least a half assed one. Okay, so there really was no point other than yelling at the angel for not showing up, but Dean's sleep deprived brain was okay with that. "I waited 7 whole hours for you, Cas! Hell, I could have been sleeping right now! We've been getting our asses kicked by demons all freaking week, and the last time I got a good night's rest was 3 days ago because I got knocked out by a djinn! All we asked of you was to show up on time. You didn't even bother calling Sam!"

Cas kept staring at him, and it was really throwing Dean off. "I'm sorry Dean, I was in the Himalayas looking for a talisman that I thought could help you. There was no cellular phone service there."

And now Dean felt like an ass. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "So there's nothing big and important that we need to know of?" he asked.

"Nothing at this moment." Cas replied.

"Great, well, I'm going to sleep. Feel free to fly away and do whatever you angels do. Just- don't watch me while I'm sleeping, kay?" Dean was so exhausted that he walked out of the bathroom and collapsed onto the bed in just his towel, and passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

...

This had to be a dream, because there was an amazingly attractive girl dressed in an angel costume straddling him in his own motel bed, and Sam was nowhere to be found. But the thing was, if this was a dream, it was pretty freaking realistic. The clock on the bedstand ticked. The bed creaked. The sink dripped slow and steady and the brown stain was still there on the couch. Everything felt strangely vivid and solid. He could even feel the the way the girl's hips rolled under his hands. Sure, there was a stranger on his lap, but she seemed intent on making sure he was having a good time, and he wasn't about to send her away.

Things were getting heavy, and her tongue was moving in a particularly pleasing fashion when there was an extremely loud bang, like a rocket going off, and a blinding flash of brilliant white and blue burst through the windows, making them shatter and spray glass everywhere. It lasted no more than a couple seconds, at best.

"What the fuck?!"

The light looked suspiciously familiar. Dread was pooling in his stomach, effectively killing his hard-on, but Dean couldn't pinpoint why. He looked up to see the girl's reaction, but all that was left of her was a small spattering of ash and a single charred feather. He bolted upright out of bed, properly frightened, and swung his legs down to the floor.

He heard a creak to the side of him, and the hair on his arms stood up.

There was something completely off about everything around him, and he couldn't quite explain it. It felt as if the shadows were darkening, like there was an edge to something Dean couldn't quite put his finger on. Subtle. He wanted desperately to turn on the light, but the bulb had shattered with the explosion, or whatever it was.

Dean stood up, the scratchy carpet under his feet steadying him, and he took a deep breath and walked to the door. He heard the noise again, the creak that told all of his instincts that there was someone behind him, but he spun around and the room was empty. If anything, it looked even more cramped than he remembered, like the walls had suddenly compacted by a few inches.

The shadows were playing tricks on his eyes, he told himself, and faced the door again, wanting to take a walk and get out of the motel room. He quickly remembered pants, and a jacket, hurrying up his movements. His body was on red alert, tense and quick. There was something off, something playing with his senses here.

"God, I really need more sleep." He told himself, chalking the paranoia down to insomnia. He was going to go out, and get a hot chocolate, and call Sam, and then he was going to get a legit good night's sleep. He snatched the keys off the table and suddenly straightened up, smelling something like charcoal and ash. Like the smell that lingers after an exorcism. He whirled around again, eyes searching the room.

There was nothing there.

He let out a deep breath, scrubbing his hand across his face. He really needed more sleep. But Dean was a hunter, so he reached for the holy water they kept in a flask in their duffel bag. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean swore he saw something under the bed shift.

It was nothing, like a shadow moving when you shift the light.

He crouched and slowly lowered his head so he could see everything underneath the bedframe. Besides the usual odd stains, there was nothing there. Dean closed his eyes and breathed deep, trying to calm himself.

_Swish._

His eyes snapped open and landed on the curtains. They moved again in the slight breeze, making the sound heard earlier. He stood up, more than ready to leave, and snatched his phone when he was struck with another wave of uneasiness, that something was off here. His eyes scanned the carpets, the beds, the walls. Everything was clean. He frowned again and looked at the couch. He could have sworn the stain was brown, not deep red, but it had been late when they'd stumbled in. It was just a trick of the light.

All of a sudden his chest constricted and he was hit with complete and utterly debilitating fear. His eyes searched the room wildly, heart pounding. This fear was almost as bad a what he'd been forced to face when he caught the 'ghost flu'. His eyes landed on a small scratch next to his bed, something that looked almost like a tally mark. It was completely ordinary in every aspect, except for the fact that it scared the living shit out of him.

He had to get out of here - now. He took in a lungful of air and jumped to his feet, reaching the door before hearing a soft noise. He couldn't quite place it, but as he turned around, he could see the second scratch on the other side of the bed.

Dean stopped. He stopped making noise, stopped breathing, stopped moving.

Nothing happened. There was no telltale signs of a ghost, or any other creature in the room with him. Was it all in his head, like with the banshee and the djin? Dean froze at the thought, panic overtaking him. He needed to call Sam. Sam can be the rational one here. Sam will know what's going on. Dean reached for his cell, not daring to remove his back from the door, and speed dialed Sam. It rang once, twice, three times. Dean hung up and dialed again. Again, it rang once, twice, three times, then went to voicemail. Dean swore. Sam never ignores his phone. Never. He let out a breath, and the sound of his heart pumping softened, enough to hear a faint ringing. Fear squeezing his throat again, Dean dialed.

There it was, the ringing. It was Sam's phone. Dean was freaking out. He was practically paralyzed and Sammy was nowhere to be found, his phone forgotten in a bag somewhere in the room. The room. Dean looked around the room again, sensing for the billionth time something was off. And then he saw it. There was another scratch next to the bed. And that was when Dean decided it was time to leave.

He tried the door, but it was locked. He shook the handle, and in his desperation tried to kick the door down, but just ended up with a very sore foot and an even greater sense of fear. The wind picked up, almost sounding like whispers. Dean looked around wildly, trying to place where this was coming from. It didn't feel like a ghost, or a creature, for that matter, and he couldn't see anything in the too small room. He turned around, ready to try bashing the door down with his body, but the door was gone.

In its place was a blank wall, with five neat tally marks scratched into it. Dean stared at it in horror. He looked at the wall next to the bed, where two new scratches resided. Dean tried to control his breathing, to understand what was going on here, but it was pretty fucking hard when his heart was racing like this.

He slid to the floor and closed his eyes, hoping when he opened them the whole thing would be gone. The whispers didn't subside, if anything they had picked up. He opened his eyes and was pretty fucking sure that his heart had stopped for a second, because the entire bottom part of the walls was covered in the same type of tally marks. The lamp had also mysteriously fixed and turned itself on, causing the shadows to move in all kinds of directions, making the beds seem closer to him than they really were. He took gulps of air, mentally running through a list of all the things that could do something like this. He came up empty.

He was so screwed. He reached around to grab his gun, instead feeling something hard and fabric clad and very much alive.

He froze, again, not daring to move a single muscle while all his hunter instincts were telling him to run, to attack, to do anything except freeze. He was sure his heart was going to explode by the way it was racing.

"Dean."

He refused to move and respond to the familiar voice, his attention held by the way the shadows moved, like liquid, receding into corners and under the bed and concentrating until they looked almost ink black. He couldn't quiet his breathing.

"Dean. Look at me." His voice seemed to swell and flow throughout the room, the whispers rising and falling around him.

He slowly turned around. Castiel was standing right behind him.

"C-Cas? Are you doing this?" he squeaked. Castiel just stared at him, his blue eyes glowing faintly. Dean stared back, because his voice wasn't working and he was too terrified to see what had happened to the wall behind him. Then he felt, rather than heard the same creak behind him. He whipped his head around, to find four new marks right above the headboard of his bed, where Castiel was now sitting.

There was a small drop of blood spilling from the fourth mark.

"Dean. Come here."

Castiel's voice sounded warped and different and all wrong, but Dean got up and walked towards him anyways. As soon as he was within arm's reach of the angel, he was being pulled down by the lapels of his jacket into a bruising kiss. He stiffened and tried to pull away, alarmed at Cas' actions, but it was like the angel was made of stone. When he finally pulled away to allow Dean to breathe, he was naked from the waist up, and started working on Dean's clothing, getting to his shirt before Dean stopped him.

"What - Cas I don't - what's- what's going on?" He spluttered. Cas was positively glowing now, and Dean could see the outline of his wings on the back wall.

The back wall that suddenly had two new marks on them, both spilling a drop of blood that looked almost ink black in the light.

Dean was pulled back into another kiss, which Castiel refused to break until Dean was a shivering, moaning mess. Cas pulled at the hem of Dean's shirt until it came off, and then the angel caressed every inch of his skin with just his fingertips, each path creating sparks under Dean's skin. Castiel's fingers slowly slid up both of the other man's arms until his hand was hovering right above the handprint that Cas had left. He softly pressed down on the mark that grew pleasantly warm then suddenly Dean was hit by waves and waves of pleasure, each one tearing through him and leaving him gasping and shaking, only to have another hit him again. After the fourth wave, Dean placed his trembling hands on Cas' chest and managed enough coherent thought to form the word "Stop."

Instantly Castiel removed his hand, and after a minute or so Dean had regained enough of himself to realize that he had come in his pants, and that Castiel was shaking and glowing brilliant white. Dean shielded his eyes and stared at the angel in horror.

"Cas? Cas, what - what is this? What's wrong?" Dean was practically yelling now, because his angel was thrumming quite loudly.

"Dean!" He gasped. "Sp- spell .. I can't -" He lurched forward and grabbed onto Dean's shoulders, but Dean couldn't see because his eyes were screwed shut. The sound became louder, and he clapped his hands over his ears, but that didn't drown out the piercing scream of the angel's true voice.

There was a blinding flash, searing pain, then silence and the lingering smell of burning flesh.

Dean opened his eyes, and the scene before him nearly stopped his heart.

Cas was slumped at his feet, with half of the usual scorched wingmarks covering the area in front of him. Every single solid surface was covered in the same scratches, and in the space between the two beds were two words branded into the wall. He tried to move his arms, but his entire torso screamed it's protest and he looked down.

On his chest, were the seared in imprints of the beginnings of two wings.

He looked to the wall again, the words there stopping his breath in his throat.

_"** TRY AGAIN **"_


	2. A Pair of Blue Eyes and A Diner

Someone's shaking him.

"Dean. Deaaaan." Someone kicked his bed. "DEAN. Wake up." Dean rolled over and then suddenly bolted upright, staring wildly around the room. His terror must have been evident because Sam had backed up with his hands in the air. That and Dean had the knife he slept with out from under his pillow and was currently aimed at him.

"Dean. It's okay. It's just me." He said, hands still in the air.

Dean quickly dropped the knife and scrubbed his hands over his face. He could still feel the sting of the burn, could still see the outline of wings on his chest and on the floor, Cas slumped on the ground. His sheets were soaked with sweat. "Sorry, Sammy." he muttered.

"So, uh. I take it you weren't having a happy dream, then." Sam stuttered.

"What?" Dean asked, suddenly aware that the sheets and his boxers were sticky with his own come. What was he, a teenager? He didn't get wet dreams anymore.

"Well, I was gonna ask you if it was midgets or Megan Fox, but uh, I'm guessing it wasn't either." Sam said, making sure their eyes didn't meet as he packed up his things.

"It was, um, it was Cas-Cassie! It was Cassie. Y'know, Route 66 Cassie." He internally smacked himself. He kept his head buried in his hands, hiding his burning cheeks from Sam.

"Oh. Right." Sam stood up, turning towards the door before spinning back to face Dean. He jerked his thumb to the motel door. "I'm gonna go get breakfast." He pulled the Impala's keys out of his pocket.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Dean nodded, and Sam turned around and strode out of the door. Dean heard the Impala start up then roll away, and then he jumped out of the sweat soaked bedsheets and into the shower, pulling off his boxers and shirt as he went. He was thankful that Sam hadn't used up all of the hot water, and tried not to let glowing blue eyes and scratches in the walls penetrate his thoughts as he cleaned off.

…

They had stopped at a diner for lunch. Dean ordered a burger and fries, as usual. Sam had a chicken wrap and a salad. "Where in Utah are we going again?" Dean asked, taking a huge bite out of his burger that the pretty waitress with the blue-green eyes had brought them.

"Charvin. It's a small town near Park City." Sam responded, pouring a packet of sugar into his tea and stirring. Dean shook more salt onto his fries.

"Dude. You're going to have a heart attack with all that salt." He scoffed.

"Already did, Sammy. Besides, Cas could bring me back." Dean responded, popping a fry into his mouth and moaning as he chewed.

"You really shouldn't take advantage of him like that, Dean." Sam said. He was worried that Dean was getting a big head, thinking that he was invincible because they had an Angel of the Lord on their side.

"Yeah, well, he's the one that insisted we call him if we need help, right?" Dean shrugged, finishing off half of his burger with three whole bites.

Sam finished off his food in silence, lost in his own thoughts. He kind of liked it when Cas wasn't around, because when he was Dean and Cas would get into epic staring contests and basically ignore everything around them, which really sucked if they were in the middle of a hunt. Castiel's staring still unsettles him, but it didn't seem to affect Dean.

Dean, who had apparently already finished his burger and beer.

"So. Re-Brief me." Dean said before stuffing a giant handful of fries in his mouth. Sam frowned at him and pulled up the page he had seen earlier, but read it out loud instead of letting Dean and his greasy hands touch it.

"Okay. Charvin, Utah. Over the course of two weeks, four people have died of strangulation."

"So, what? An angry spirit?" Dean interrupted, poking a couple more fries into his mouth. Sam stared at him for a couple seconds, or bitch-faced, as Dean would put it, then continued.

"No, I'm thinking witch. All the people that died were choked to death by their scarves." He snorted. Dean finished off his fries and grunted, "Friggin' hate witches, man."

"Yeah. I know you do. You say that at least twice every time we hunt them." He replied, shutting down his laptop and taking a sip of his tea.

"Yeah, well, that's because they're creepy, and disgusting, and evil." Dean shivered. "Alright. Let's go gank these sons of bitches and get it over with." He sighed.


	3. Always Check The Motel Room

The motel room was just icky and tasteless as the rest of them, and Dean threw his bag at the foot before flopping face down on the mattress. He tossed and turned for a minute before whining,"I miss my room. My bed was so much better than these freaking motel beds with their freaking springs and their weird ass blankets."

Sam looked over to see his brother kick the bed in frustration like a five year old. He snorted. "Hey, you're the one that wanted to hunt again."

"And you're the one that chose a case all the way in Utah with friggin' witches." He retorted. But he sighed and got up to unpack.

The next day they went investigating. Sam had been woken by his brother's tossing and turning and grunting, so he had done some research, and it turned out that there were five missing persons that had disappeared in the last two months, and the stray cat count had gone up, and four people had gotten bitten by an animal and contracted rabies.

He had explained this all to Dean at breakfast, who had then replied around a mouthful of food "Y'know, half that 'infmation 's probably useless."

"When has it ever not been useful, Dean?" Sam all but shouted, throwing his hands up. "It could be something more than a witch, you know. What about some pissed off god or something?"

Dean swallowed and pointed a finger at him. "Do not get my hopes up. Besides, can't witches turn people into animals anyways? Like in Princess and the Frog or something?"

Sam stared at him.

Dean looked up and stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth. "What?" he asked.

Sam pressed his lips together to contain his smile. "Princess and the Frog?" Dean blushed and his mouth opened and closed a few times. "Lisa had me babysit a few times. I didn't choose the movies."

"Right." He snorted. "And by the way, it was voodoo." He held up a hand. "I've seen the commercial way too many times." He said, stopping any remarks Dean would have about his sexuality. (Like he was one to talk.) Sam was pretty confident that he was 100% straight, unlike his brother. He sighed. "Fine, let's just entertain the idea that witches can turn people into animals. Why would she want them to turn into cats?"

"I don't know, revenge or something?" He took a bite of his pancake and held his cup out to the waitress, who filled it with coffee. Sam watched her retreat, eyes on her backside.

"Dude." Dean was staring at him.

"What?" Sam asked. "I'm actually surprised you weren't hitting on her."

Dean snorted and shook his head, finishing off his pancakes.

"So. Who're we interviewing first?"

Sam pulled the papers out and sifted through them. "17 year old Kelly Carol. She was supposed to be volunteering at a bake sale but didn't show, and when they checked her home, they found her lying dead on the floor. Doors and windows were locked, no sign of forced entry. The cops think it was some sort of freak accident. Parents are Mitch and Kathy Carol."

"Does she have any connections with the other vics?" Dean asked.

"No. And her scarf was removed for evidence. Apparently it was wound so tightly around her neck that the police considered calling it a suicide." He replied.

Mr. and Mrs. Carol were convinced it was murder. And they were right, but it didn't help when they kept asking if the feds had any leads on anyone who might have done this to their daughter every five freaking minutes. Dean had to step outside and take a pretend phone call so he wouldn't shoot anybody.

"Find anything?" He asked a very annoyed looking Sam.

"Nothing. No hex bags, no tufts of hair, no sulfur, no blood, no demonic altars. Just a healthy, normal married couple." Sam replied, climbing into the Impala and turning to Dean. "Oh, and the kicker? Kelly was a model citizen who participated in community projects and hasn't harmed a single thing in her life."

"Figures." Dean grunted."They know any of the other victims?"

"Yeah, the nurse. But they believe she was murdered, too." Sam retorted.

They drove back to the motel to do more research. Or, so Sam could do more research while Dean watched crappy motel TV. Dean grabbed himself a beer and settled on his bed with piss poor television. About halfway through, his stomach started cramping, but he ignored it until he was curled up in a ball, the pain making it excruciating to move. He stumbled his way into the bathroom where Sam followed, concerned. Dean leaned over the bowl and coughed up blood. He groaned.

"Dean?" Sam asked. Dean just coughed up more blood.

"Dean." Sam took a cautionary step forward. Dean coughed up a couple pins and sewing needles.

"Hex .. Hex bag. Look-" He gritted out, pins and needles and blood dripping out of his mouth.

Sam spun around and gave the room a quick once-over, then rushed over to Dean's bed and tore the sheets off. He ripped open the pillow and looked under the bed, checked the drawer of the bedside table, behind the TV, behind the TV stand. He ran into the bathroom and checked behind the shower curtain, beneath the sink, behind the toilet, in the tank. He could hear Dean's breathing turn into gasps.

"CAS!" Sam yelled, running out of the bathroom. "WE NEED YOU!"

There was the telltale sound of wings fluttering and Dean's breathing became easier. Sam spun around to see the angel with his hand on the small of Dean's back. He turned towards Sam, a concerned frown on his face. "Sam? What's wrong with Dean?"

"A witch- a witch put a hex bag somewhere in this room and I can't find it-" Sam said breathlessly, but the angel had already fluttered away. Half a second later, he reappeared, an old busted up bible in his hand. He opened it and pulled out two hex bags, holding them out to Sam.

"Just- set them on fire. Burn them." The words had barely left Sam's mouth before the hex bags were burning, the ashes fluttering to the ground. Dean groaned from the bathroom, and the sound of heavy breathing and a toilet flushing followed. Cas left the hollowed out bible on the bed and walked towards Dean, who was leaning against the bathroom's doorframe. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and then stepped back, allowing the hunter to straighten up and wipe off his mouth.

"You'd think one would learn," Cas chastised, looking back and forth between the two brothers, "after all these years, to check your motel room when hunting witches?" Both boys looked down sheepishly.

Sam almost groaned when Cas and Dean locked eyes, but instead walked over to the bible resting on his bed. He examined it, noticing that someone had actually hand-carved through each and every page to make room for the hex bags. He frowned and walked over to the bedside table, and opened the drawer. He sighed. It was empty, meaning Sam could have avoided sitting through another eye-fucking session if he had just dumped the entire thing out.

He looked over the bible again, and flipped open to the inside of the cover. In the corner, _Charvin Psychiatric Center_ was ingrained in gold.

"Hey, guys? He turned around to see them still staring at each other. Dean's mouth was parted, and Castiel licked his lips, drawing Dean's attention there before his eyes flicked back up to meet Cas'. Seriously, how the hell were these two not making out already?

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, guys? I think I might've found something." The two broke their little staring contest, and a blush started creeping up Cas' neck.

It took almost everything Dean had not to stare at the blushing angel. Sam was leveling bitchface #2 at him, which meant Sam had most likely found something and Dean hadn't been listening.

His eyes flickered back and forth between Sam and Cas and he said oh so eloquently, "Uh, what?"

Sam's bitchface got more intense, and Dean felt like backing up.

"I said, I found something." He said, waving the hollow bible in the air. He flipped it open and handed it to Dean. "There, in the corner."

"Charvin Psychiatric Center?" Dean questioned, looking at Sam. He nodded. "I think that's where the witch is, or has been recently. Cas found the hex bags in there."

"Great. Fucking fantastic." Dean grumbled. "It's not just a regular witch who just likes killing people, this one has to be riding the crazy train too." He tossed the bible onto the table next to Sam's laptop. "And my pillow's ruined." He stomped over to his bed, inspecting the damage.

He heard the fluttering of wings, and Cas popped up behind Dean, holding a pillow.

"Hey-is that my pillow?" Dean asked, grabbing it from Cas' hands. They had called Cas to the batcave a couple of weeks ago, who had confirmed that it was well protected, to the point where Cas couldn't even enter. He had helped them modify the wards so he could flit in and out of the place as he chose.

"I recall you complaining about motel beds when you and Sam talked of hunting, so I had thought that you might appreciate having your pillow to sleep on, if not your own bed." Castiel explained. Dean grinned at him. "Thanks, man." He pushed the torn up piece of trash off the motel bed and put his own pillow down, and flopped onto the bed. He tried to ignore the flash of heat that accompanied the thought of having Cas in his room.

"You wanna stay tonight, Cas?" Dean asked, not quite ready for the angel to leave.

"It's alright Cas, we know you probably have angel duties or something. You don't have to stay." Sam said quickly, with a pointed look at Dean. Dean missed the look.

"It's okay, I would like to stay. I haven't been burdened with many responsibilities after I returned from purgatory. I often find myself with nothing to do." Cas replied.

"Awesome." Dean murmured. Sam went to take a shower.


	4. A 1981 Pontiac Firebird and Old Faces

Dean woke up to a hand on his back and blue eyes in his face. He jerked back and almost fell off the bed.

"Cas?" He breathed. His heart was racing, and the dream came back to him in bits and pieces. Flashes of light, warped voices and intense, searing heat.

"Dean? Is something wrong?" Cas asked, searching his face. Dean looked wildly around the room, checking for anything out of the ordinary. Sam was standing at the foot of his bed with a concerned look on his face, and there were feathers all over the floor.

"No - no, it was just a nightmare." He looked away and studied the sheets, which were soaked in sweat. Again. Great.

"Do these happen often?" Castiel had straightened up, and was now looking at him with his head tilted. Sam crossed his arms.

Dean looked between them. "No." When their expressions didn't change, he said, "Well, not until recently, I guess." He rubbed his face with a hand. "Look, will you two just drop it? They're just nightmares. I'll be fine."

Sam snorted and shook his head, then walked over to his bag and pulled on some pants. "When are we ever fine?" But his words were lost on the two who had locked eyes. If Dean heard Sam's heaving sigh, he didn't comment on it.

After a shower and breakfast, the trio made their way to the Charvin Psychiatric Center.

"So who are we looking for?" Dean asked, walking up the steps to the white three-story building.

"Uh, well. I was thinking about just interviewing the members of the staff." Sam said, a few feet behind him. Dean paused at the door and looked at him.

"What? You have any better ideas?" Sam snorted.

"Well, I was thinking we could have the bloodhound with wings over there check the rooms for the herbs that you need for hex bags." he turned around to nod at Cas, but something behind the angel caught his attention. His eyes widened and his face paled, save for a small blush on his cheeks. Sam followed Dean's line of sight, but all he saw was a 1981 custom dark blue Pontiac Firebird.

"Okay I know that's a really nice car Dean, but we have work to do and that doesn't involve you getting a boner from staring at a Firebird." Sam sassed.

Dean looked at Sam and then back at the car. His mouth opened and closed a couple times while his eyes flickered between his brother and the Firebird, before he blushed and finally turned around and pushed open the door. At the front desk were two men dressed in suits with their backs facing the brothers. Sam immediately straightened up, but Dean just cleared his throat and called out, "Jake?"

The man hanging back turned around. He had tousled dark brown hair and prominent eyebrows, angled nose and full lips, with five day old stubble and the beginnings of a goatee.

"Dean!" When Jake saw who it was, his face broke out in a grin and he strode forward, shaking hands with Dean and pulling him in for a pat on the back. He was the same height as Dean, and when he pulled back, he left a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Long time no see!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah, I saw your car outside and couldn't believe it." Dean grinned. Oh. So that explained his reaction to seeing the car. Well, it explained some of it. Sam was getting the feeling that there was more to the story.

Jake let his hand drop and turned around and called out, "Hey Garth, look who it is!"

The smaller hunter turned away from the front desk and took in the sight before him.

"Sam! Dean! What are you guys doing here?"

"I guess we could ask you two the same thing." Sam said. He stuck out a hand for Jake. "Sam Winchester."

Jake stepped forward, took it and shook. He turned to Dean and raised his eyebrows. "Well, Dean, I knew you had a brother, but I had no idea he was that big." He winked at Sam, who turned to Dean, who had his hands in his pockets and was studying his shoes, blushing like crazy. Yep. Definitely more to the story.

"You two know each other?" Garth asked, gesturing to Dean and Jake. Sam looked at his brother expectantly.

"We- uh, we worked together on a case quite a few years back." Dean supplied. Jake nodded. "Wendigo, wasn't it?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I was like what, 22? Somewhere around the time Sammy left for college. What were you, like, 24? 23?"

"23, yeah. Remember when the dude, like, went and .. ?" He gestured about something with his hands, and Dean laughed.

"Yeah, and then he .. and then it was like-" He also did something with his hands and both men laughed, absorbed in memories.

Garth looked at the two with a confused smile. "So - Dean, Sam, you gonna introduce us to the guy in the trenchcoat over there?"

Dean looked behind them to see Castiel hanging back, his head tilted.

"Hey Cas, c'mere." Dean waved his hand towards the small party. Cas tentatively stepped forward, and Dean placed his hand on the angel's shoulder. "This is Castiel."

"Hello. I'm an Angel of The Lord."

Both Jake and Garth's eyebrows shot up and the brothers sighed.

"Cas, how many times do we have to tell you? You don't just tell people you're an angel." Dean said.

Castiel tilted his head even more and stared at Dean. "I assumed, because of your body language and the way you greeted these two men, that they were hunters and therefore had knowledge of the existence of the supernatural."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't assume … " Dean trailed off. Sam rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.

"So, uh, Jake, Garth, what are you guys doing here?" Sam asked again.

"Well, we think we're hunting a witch. Someone's been turning people into cats." Garth answered, Jake's eyebrows still raised at the hunter and his angel.

"Cats?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Four people have gone missing and all of them had relatives here, and all of the relatives have been visited by a different stray cat. Two of them are saying that the cat is their missing family member." Garth answered.

"Huh." Sam turned to Dean, who pointed a finger at Sam and said, "Don't even start. You didn't say anything about relatives and cats that sneak around psychiatric wards."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"So what are you three here for?" Jake asked, eyes flickering towards where Dean's hand was still on Castiel's shoulder. Dean let his hand drop and he shoved them in his pockets.

"Well, we're here for a witch, too. Someone who's been strangling people with their own scarves." Sam said.

"And trying to kill me with hex bags." Dean added.

"I guess that means we're teaming up." Jake said with a small smile.

Dean looked around the small waiting room. The only nurse there had her back turned to them. "Yeah. Okay, Cas, you go invisible girl and check every room for hex bag ingredients. You know what they smell like, right?"

Castiel nodded and disappeared. Garth and Jake were staring at the space where Cas had poofed.

"So, where are you guys thinking about starting?" Dean asked the two hunters.

"We were going to go interview the patients who were getting visited by the cats. And possibly some of the staff." Jake answered. Just then, there was the soft sound of the fluttering of wings and Castiel popped up right next to Dean. Jake jumped and reached for his gun, but Dean stopped him.

"Woah there tiger. It's just Cas." The angel turned to Dean.

"Dean, the smell of the ingredients you described were strongest in room 209, in the West Wing."

"Awesome." He turned to the rest of the group. "How about me, Jake, and Cas go check out room 209 and Sam and Garth go interview the … cat patients?"

The rest of the group nodded and split. Cas put his hands on both men's shoulders and took them right in front of the door. Jake stumbled and looked around, looking pale.

"Ah, welcome to the pleasures of Angel Airway." Dean chuckled. They were in a deserted hallway, one that reminded Dean of an apartment building. It must be one of those supervised living quarters that they have for mentally unstable people that want to be able to interact with the real world, he mused. Which was perfect, because that gave her the chance to plant hex bags wherever she pleased. Jake straightened himself up and knocked on the door. No one answered, so after looking around for a security camera, Jake bent over and got out his lockpicking kit.

Dean felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. It was Cas, who had two fingers up to his temple and was frowning about something.

"Yeah, Cas? Something on angel radio?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded.

"I must leave. I will return as soon as possible, though."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, okay. Be back soon." Castiel disappeared.


	5. A 1981 Pontiac Firebird (part 2)

**Note- ****I'm so, so sorry I havent updated in 2 weeks! I was on spring break and had no wifi or my beloved laptop. And I left on a friday and came back the next sunday, so I didn't have the time to post it. But I finished this chapter! It's longer than usual as an apology.**

**PS- This chapter has Dean/other in it, so if you're bothered by it, you can skip those parts. They don't have anything to do with the plot. I'll put it in italics and have a brief summary of it at the end.**

Jake had the door unlocked and stepped inside. Dean followed, gun drawn. He felt safe enough to put it away after they both checked the one bedroom, the one bathroom, and two closets. They worked seamlessly together, as they usually did.

"So, tell me. Theres a whole lotta rumors floating around about you two. Where've you been these past 12 years?" Jake asked, casually flipping through a pile of mail on a countertop. It was a studio-type apartment, so the kitchen and living room weren't separated.

"Short version?" Dean asked, looking over the books in a black bookshelf that had been screwed into the floor. He snorted at his own joke. There was no short version.

He spilled everything in short and clipped yet easy tones. About Azazel and Sam being chosen, about Sam's death and his trip to hell. About Lilith and hellhounds and Ruby, about the apocalypse and them raising Lucifer. About loosing Sam again, about Lisa and Ben, about soulless!Sam and Cas going darkside and hallucifer. About Death, Crowley, and Eve. About Raphael trying to restart the apocalypse and Godstiel and Leviathans. All summarized and paraphrased, of course.

He stopped the story right before Purgatory, having searched all over the living room with it's one couch and tiny color TV.

Jake was leaning forward on his elbows on one of the counters, staring at him with something like awe.

"Wait, so, how many times have you died? How long were you in hell?"

Dean snorted.

"I got stuck in some fucking timeloop where an archangel killed me over a hundred times. I've lost count how many times I've died. And I - uh" He stopped to poke through some magazines.

"I was in hell for forty years."

Jake chuckles like he's joking, but when Dean just looks up, he stops and holds up his hands.

"Wait, hold up. It's only been 12 years since I've last seen you."

"Yeah, well, four months up here equals forty years down there."

Jake let out a low whistle.

"Damn, the years have definitely been good to you."

Dean smirked and fixed his tie.

"Damn straight." He says, and winks at Jake, who eyes him appreciatively.

When Dean looked back at the other hunter, his eyes held him in place. They were golden and the pupils were slightly lust blown, and Dean suddenly felt uncomfortable, like there was something missing.

There was no spark, he suddenly realized, and he turned and busied himself by searching through the drawers of the TV stand and pulling out books.

"So, um. You left off a year and a half ago." Jake tries.

Dean grunts.

"I went to purgatory."

"Purgatory, Purgatory? Or did you spend the last year and a half camping out in Miami?"

"Purgatory, Purgatory, you idiot." Dean snorted.

Jake let out a gust of air. "Wow."

Dean dared to peek up from where he was crouching, only to see his old friend searching through the closet across from the bathroom.

"What was it like, Purgatory?" he asked, voice slightly muffled from where he was sticking it.

"Dirty.", Dean answered. "And pure, I guess. You only focus on surviving. It's where monsters go when they die, so." He shoved the books back in their place.

"I'm just surprised you're still alive. How'd you get out?"

Oh god. The dreaded question. He's never even really told Sammy the full story. Of course, the dweeb has probably already figured it out, but still.

"I - uh - I had help."

"Had help?" Jake questioned, poking his head back out of the closet. "It's where monsters go when they die, right? So what, some random monster willingly helped you out of purgatory? And didn't eat you in return?"

His questions were hitting too close to home for Dean's taste.

"Uh, no- no. Cas got stuck in there with me." He wasn't lying per se, but he wasn't exactly telling the full truth either.

"Oh." He paused. "Must be nice, having an angel to do everything for you. You do know 'The Winchesters' are kind of legends in the hunting community, right? Stopped the Apocalypse, fucking defeated Lucifer by yourselves, best friends with heaven and hell's messengers alike. Your name sends monsters running." There was an undertone of jealousy in his voice that Dean chose to ignore.

Dean wasn't used to this kind of half-awed praise, so he sort of just stood there awkwardly, letting a small, proud smile rest on his lips, eyes trained on the floor.

"So I guess that brings us full circle, huh?" Jake mused, lost in thought.

"Yeah, with cats stalking psychiatric wards and witches who spilled their marbles everywhere." He mocked, staring intently at the ground. "But why are you and Garth paired up anyways? I thought Garth was helping Bobby out."

"Yeah, but Bobby said that he was getting on his nerves and dumped him on me with half a lead about cats." Jake snorted, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

"Huh." Dean grunted.

"What?" Jake stepped forward, following dean's eyes to the floor and the small scattering of white dust and what looked like herb leaves. Dean traced it to the kitchen, then into the bedroom, finally ending at the brick wall the bed was placed in front of.

The paint job on the bricks was old and bad, and it was crumbling and chipping in places, leaving a fine powder of white dust all over the floor. It was most concentrated in the left corner, where a few bricks looked loose. Dean jiggled one, and it easily slid out of the wall and into his hand, paint and brick dust pouring off of it and onto the floor. Behind it, was a wooden box sitting in a large hole that looked like it had been carved out. Dean pulled the box out, and handed the brick to Jake. Inside, were all the herbs a witch could need, and several tiny leather bags full of hair and yarn.

"Ugh. Fucking witches." He mumbled. He closed the box and set it down, then placed the brick carefully back into the wall.

"So … where's her altar, then?" Jake asked, eyes raking the room.

"No clue. But we better hurry. I wanna be able to gank her when she gets back." Dean answered, eyes on the floor again. Jake pulled on a pair of black leather gloves, then opened the small closet in the small room. He searched through clothes, complaining about how he felt like even more of a creeper than usual.

Dean flipped the skirt of the bed up and found it.

He and Jake pushed the bed aside to reveal sigils etched all over the floor, with a cloth and a book in the middle.

"Well. Now we just wait for the witch to show up." Jake snorted.

"Yeah." Dean frowned. A thought occurred to him.

"Hey, I gotta make a phone call … so i'll just …. be over here" He said, slowly backing up.

Jake looked at him funny but nodded.

Dean flipped around and walked into the kitchen/living room, pulling out his phone and dialing the number he knew by heart as he went. He pressed the phone up to his ear and looked out the peephole, staring into an empty hallway. It was picked up at the second ring.

"What?" A grumpy voice answered. Dean smiled.

"Hey, Bobby."

"You didn't call just to chat, did you?"

Dean snorted. "Okay, fine. Why'd you send Garth off with our hunt?"

"What?"

"A witch, Bobby, We're hunting a witch. And apparently, you sent Garth off with the same case as us."

"Boy," Bobby sighed. "It's jus' one of those feelins', that there's something bigger goin' on. And I didn't send Garth off alone. Jake's supposed to be with 'im. He is with 'im, isn't he?"

"Uh, yeah. Jake's - Jake's with him."

"Then whatterya so worked up about, ya idjit?"

Dean sighed. "I'm pretty sure you know, Bobby."

He sighed. "How many times am I gonna hafta tell you this, Dean? The past is the past. What's done is done."

"Not when he's looking at me like that it's not."

"Is there a problem with that?"

"Well, no-um- it's just-" Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

"Just what?"

"It's just not the same!"

"Well of course it's not! It was twelve years ago, Dean. Did you really think it would be the same now?"

"Well, no … "

"Then why are your panties in such a twist?"

Dean blushed bright pink.

"I- I don't know!"

"Look, I think I getit. Sam says you don't go to bars anymore. You're getting' older an' it's scarin' ya."

"No! -Wait, what? You and Sam have been talking about me?" An idea dawned on him. A horrible, twisted idea. "You sent Garth and Jake over here on purpose, didn't you?"

Bobby huffed a sigh. "It was Sam's idea, okay?"

"But Sam doesn't know about Jake!"

"No, but he did say he wanted you to start talkin' to some of your old friends again. Said it'd do you good, or somethin'."

Dean groaned. "You didn't send anyone else over, did you?"

"Well, I was, but most of 'em are dead or unavailable."

"Fantastic."

"Oh, stop moaning princess. Look, jus' kill the witch and you'll be partin' ways before ya know it"

"Yeah, okay. Bye, Bobby."

He flipped the phone closed and slammed his head against the door, memories filling his head.

_-January 18, 2001 [Wyoming]-_

_Dean leaned against the hood of the Impala, waiting for a hunter named Jake to meet up with him. He was hunting a wendingo and had realized he needed help, so he had called up the first hunter that didn't look like a total ass. He preferred hunting with non-asses._

_He had parked on a dirt road right before the forest started, a secluded little place that people wouldn't usually find. The purr of a car that Dean would most likely drool over increased from in front of him, and dark blue custom 1981 Pontiac Firebird pulled up and parked parallel to the Impala. Dean ogled the car, fully conscious of the expression on his face. A man stepped out, and he was lying to himself if he said the man wasn't absolutely gorgeous. But he always lied to himself._

_His hair was shorter than sammy's, but not by much, and it was slicked up and back to create a sloppy pompadour. He had a five o'clock shadow and heavy eyebrows, and full mouth that parted to show a set of perfect teeth. His eyes glinted mischievously, a look Dean had only felt himself give to women in bars. The guy was wearing a fitted dark brown leather jacket, and the usual hunter clothing. He held out a hand._

_"Dean Winchester?" He asked._

_Dean looked at the hand and cleared his throat. "Yeah, that's me." He shook._

_"Jake Michaels. I'm the guy you called up." He gave Dean another one of those smiles._

_"Awesome. I gotta say, sweet ride you got there." Dean shook his head and whistled._

_Jake grinned. "Thanks."_

_-March 22, 2001 [Portland]-_

_The Firebird pulled up to the motel and slid into a spot next to a 1967 Impala. Jake grabbed his bags and unlocked the motel door, hearing the cocking of a gun and then a relieved sigh._

_"Jesus, Jake, you scared me." Dean said exasperatedly, un-cocking the gun and tucking it back into his pants._

_Jake smirked to himself and threw his bags onto the second bed. "It's nice to know your reflexes are still sharp."_

_"Yeah, whatever. What took you so long? I got here like half an hour ago."_

_"I had to stop for gas. There was a line." Jake groaned. The only thing he hated about driving was fueling up. He pulled a credit card out of his back pocket and flashed it at Dean. "Got me some spending money, though."_

_"Sweet."_

_Jake snorted and returned to unpacking his necessities. "Yeah."_

_He pulled a gun out of his bag and placed it under his pillow, then placed a silver knife on the bedstead next to his flask of holy water. He had their routine down, having traveled and hunted with Dean for over two months now._

_"Hey, Dean?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"What's the most time you've ever hunted with someone? Not counting family."_

_It took him a moment to think. "About a week, I guess." He responded with a shrug._

_Jake smirked. "It's been two months, dumbass."_

_Dean looked surprised. "Really? Damn, we should celebrate or something. Let's go to a bar."_

_Jake shrugged. "I'm fine with it." He liked the idea of a good fuck right now, no strings attached. He tried to ignore Dean Winchester's sparkling smile that made his stomach clench, but it was hard not to see._

_***_  
_The bar was out of the way but the beer tasted good and the people there looked plenty ready to walk away with just about anyone. It was Dean's kind of bar. _

_They both walked up to the counter and sat down, ordering two beers and a scotch. Jake and Dean both scanned through the patrons, a few looking back and winking. Jake elbowed the other hunter in the ribs._

_"Ow! What?!" Dean jerked, almost spilling his beer._

_"Are you planning on getting laid tonight?" He asked, trying not to imagine Dean in bed with anyone else._

_"Of course." He still looked confused and irritated. Jake sighed._

_"Rock paper scissors to see who gets the motel room tonight."_

_Dean immediately perked up, closing his hand into a fist and holding it above his palm._

_"Rock, paper, scissors!"_

_Dean had a rock and Jake had paper. He hissed a yes, glad he wouldn't have to deal with hiding all their supplies from whomever he brought back._

_Just then, a blond haired, blue eyed man sat down next to Jake and ordered a scotch, turning slightly to admire the two men sitting next to him. "Well, hello there."_

_Dean's face darkened inexplicably and he turned away, attention caught by a black haired beauty in the corner, alone. He nudged Jake and nodded towards her, picking up his beer and stepping off the stool. Jake nodded and turned to the man next to him. The guy looked him over._

_"I'm Victor." He said._

_"Jake." The hunter responded. Victor smiled at him with lidded eyes and began fingering Jake's jacket._

_"I like this. It fits you perfectly. What's it made out of?" He asked._

_"It's - uh - leather." Jake answered, feeling the hand land on his thigh._

_"Hmmm." Victor purred, leaning in to nuzzle the other man's neck. Jake leaned into it, enjoying the feeling. He felt a gust of hot air puff over his ear._

_"How about you and I finish the rest of our conversation at my place?" Victor breathed._

_"Sure." Jake whispered back, getting up and leaning close to Victor all the way to the bar._

_Dean watched him walk out with the blonde haired dude, completely taken by surprise at the fact that his friend played for both teams._

_-July 7, 2001 [Kansas City]-_

_Dean was sitting on the bed cleaning his guns when his phone rang. He picked it up quickly, seeing the caller ID._

_"Dad?"_

_"Deaan."_

_Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Dad, are you drunk again?"_

_"I … I told you I wouldn't raise no fuckkin' qweh- … queers." He slurred._

_Dean stiffened up. Jake looked over from his own weapons, sensing Dean's distress._

_"Dad. You know I'm not." He said quietly._

_"Youu're a fuck- a fucking queerh andd I know it. I thought I got ridofhat, Dean. Thought I taught you women arrrr sp'sed to be the ones you fuck. "_

_Dean got up and quietly walked to the door, wrenching it open and shutting it softly. Jake stared after his friend, nervously rubbing his grease rag up and down the side of one of his pistols._

_After a few seconds he heard muffled shouting, only being able to make out the word "no" and "fuck". He waited quietly, and a few minutes later Dean stalked in, placing his phone gingerly on his bedside table and grabbing his jacket. He pulled it on and tugged it close to his body, grabbing his keys and wallet._

_"Where are you going?" Jake asked, concerned about his friend's behaviors, unaware this was a regular happening._

_"Out." He replied, slamming the door behind him._

_It was around three am when Dean stumbled in, making such a racket that it woke Jake up._

_"Dean?" He groaned. The shadow froze and swayed._

_"Hmm. Lemme guess, you're upset with me toooo. Nah it's okay, 'm used to it." He slurred. Jake was shocked. Dean rarely got drunk, his alcohol tolerance was that of a god's. To get this smashed he would have made a pretty big dent in a few of his cards._

_Dean closed the door on the second try, and swayed towards Jake. He smelled weird, like a truck stop and musk and something else._

_"Dean are you - are you alright?"_

_"Some dude fucked my mouth furr money. I'm fine." He spat out bitterly._

_Jake blinked. "What?"_

_"I'm practically afucking queer, alright? I like dudes! I sell my body ferr' money! So go ahead! THROW ME OUT! Just DO IT!" He yelled._

_"Dean, if you haven't noticed, I don't care!" Jake yelled back, confused at the sudden swing in the conversation._

_"You're disgusted by me! I can see it!" He yelled back, stumbling forward and pressing a finger to his chest._

_"No, I'm not!"_

_"Yessyou are! My dad was, and so arr' you!" He shoved Jake weakly._

_"NO, I'm NOT." Jake yelled back, grabbing Dean's face in his hands and kissing him, hard. He pulled back suddenly, remembering that this wasn't the best thing to do at this point in time._

_Dean stood there dumbstruck before fisting Jake's shirt and pulling him back, kissing him with everything he had._

_-October 31, 2001 [Sioux Falls]-_

_They hadn't talked about that night for a full month. In fact, they never really talked about it at all. But sometime in August, Jake had almost gotten himself killed while fighting off a vampire, and when they got back Dean had shoved him up against the wall and kissed all the blood out of his mouth. When he had woken up the next morning, he had just gotten cleaned up and left breakfast and coffee on the table. The same thing happened regularly from that point forward. And if Dean got drunk or let some asshole use him for some extra cash, Jake would just hold him and kiss him until he fell asleep._

_It was Halloween, a holiday that was, in Dean's opinion, completely stupid. Sure, he liked the cheap candy and slutty costumes, but that wasn't really interesting him right now. They were on their way to Bobby's, to drop off the Impala. They had decided that it was easier to have all of their supplies in one car._

_Dean and Jake both pulled in and parked, pulling out their bags and walking up to the porch. Dean opened the door and strode in, calling out. Bobby appeared in the doorway to his study, smiling at Dean. His eyes landed on Jake and narrowed._

_"So who is this, Dean?" He asked, nodding at Jake._

_Dean rolled his eyes and put his bags down. "Bobby, this is Jake, a hunter. Jake, this is Bobby. Now that we're all introduced here, can I go unpack?"_

_"Sure." His eyes were still suspicious, but they were trained on Dean as he grabbed his bags and marched up the stairs._

_"Jake, c'mon!" He yelled from upstairs._

_Jake huffed a sigh that sounded a lot like "needy" and followed him up the stairs._

_"Happy Halloween, Bobby." Dean said, throwing a bag of candy on the old hunter's desk._

_"Boy, you're gonna give me a heart attack one these days, mark my words." He said, ripping open the bag and grabbing a candy._

_Dean ripped open his own bag and grabbed a handful, sitting down on the couch and placing them in his lap. Jake wandered in after him, looking at all the books before sitting down next to Dean and grabbing a couple candies from his bag._

_"I gotta say Mr. Singer, you have quite the collection here."_

_Bobby looked up in surprise. "Well, thanks. But you don't hafta call me Mr. Singer. Call me Bobby."_

_"So, what're you looking for? There's papers everywhere." Dean asked._

_Bobby sighed. "Yer dad's got me looking for Yellow Eyes again."_

_Jake looked over to Dean, whose expression had darkened. "Still?" He asked._

_Bobby nodded._

_There was a moment of stained silence._

_Dean cleared his throat. "Any news on Sam?"_

_Bobby shook his head. "He's still at Stanford, as far as I can tell."_

_Dean nodded. "Okay." He murmured._

_Jake felt like he was intruding on something personal, but before he could excuse himself, Dean got up and announced he was going to bed. He watched him leave incredulously, looking at the clock. It was only 10:48 pm._

_He was going to ask Bobby about Dean's behavior, but he ended up asking "Who's Sam?"_

_The older hunter looked up and stared at Jake with judgmental eyes._

_"Look, boy, Dean's like a son to me. Sam's his little brother. I practically raised the two of 'em myself. An' if you hurt that boy, you'll have me to be scared about."_

_"Wh-what?"_

_"I can see that you're special to him, okay? He usually never hunts with others. 'Specially not fer this long. So if you two have some thing goin' on, I'm happy fer ya. But if you break his heart, you'll have me to answer to. He's had enough heartbreak in his life already. Too much, if you ask me."_

_Jake nodded quickly, head spinning. _  
_-_  
_That night, he made sure Dean forgot all about his little brother._

_-December 6, 2001 [Sacramento]-_

_Just thinking about the small conversation Dean had had with Bobby the next morning made him blush. It was nice knowing that Bobby was okay with the thing he had with Jake, but talking about it had been mortifying._

_They were in California hunting down a violent spirit when Dean got the call. It had been from his father (sober this time) asking for Dean to meet up with him in Sacramento. Dean had, much to Jake's displeasure, dropped the hunt and tailed it to his father._

_They met in some storage place a couple miles away from the actual city. Dean was driving, and pulled up next to a truck. He and Jake got out and walked up to a scruffy looking man in a leather jacket._

_"Dad? You called me?"_

_John Winchester turned to see his son and a second hunter walking up to him._

_"Who's this?" He asked, suspicion evident in his voice._

_"This is Jake. He's a hunter." Hi voice was detached, with no emotion. Jake was slightly confused._

_"Huh. Well. How 'bout we get some drinks and talk?" It wasn't a question, it was a command._

_They had gone to some bar named Tilly's. Jake tagged along, not quite sure if he should stick around. Dean's odd behavior didn't help._

_They were all sitting at a table in the corner, John on one side and Dean and Jake on the other. Dean practically purred at the waitress when she brought them their drinks. She blushed and giggled._

_"So. We have a problem here." John started. Jake pretended that Dean hadn't practically frozen._

_"There's a pretty big demon infestation in the city, and I need help."_

_Dean let out a gust of air. "Demons?" He asked._

_"Yeah." John answered, eyes on Dean._

_"Okay." The answer was immediate._

_*** _  
_He ordered two motel rooms that night._

_-January 18, 2002 [Sioux Falls]-_

_"You what?!" Bobby yelled, as Dean stood there alone to retrieve the Impala._

_"I .. I told him it would be better if we went our separate ways. As friends." His voice was dead._

_"AND WHY?!"_

_"Dad wanted me to hunt with him again."_

_Bobby threw his hands up into the air, pacing up and down the kitchen. He stopped again in front of Dean._

_"Why is it that every single time you find somethin' that makes you happy, you gotta go and get rid of it?"_

_"I don't know." He whispered._

_"What?"_

_"I DON'T KNOW!" He screamed, tears spilling over. He grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels off the counter and took a swig._

_He left the next morning._  
_-_

Dean was shaken out of his flashbacks by a door slamming into his forehead. He stumbled backwards, rubbing his head and staring at the woman in the doorway incredulously.

"Who the fuck are you?" She screamed.

**for the ones who skipped the flashbacks - So basically the flashbacks start when Dean first meets Jake, then go to when they both celebrate their working together for 2 months at a bar and they both go home with someone, then they finally get together after Dean reveals that he sells his body to men for extra cash, then Bobby finds out and has a positive reaction, then John calls them and Dean and Jake part ways, and FINALLY, (heh), Dean comes back to Bobby's and Bobby yells at Dean for being an idiot.**


	6. A Question And More Questions

"Who the fuck are you?" She screamed.

Jake rushed in from behind a speechless Dean, who was either too shocked or too out of it from his flashbacks to respond properly.

The girl was still standing in the doorway, looking like she was about to smack someone or scream and run for it or both. She was petite with frizzy blonde hair, and was wearing a horrid blue and yellow sundress with a "matching" magenta and green shoulder bag.

Jake fumbled to grab his FBI badge, elbowing Dean in the process. They both held their badges up for her to see, and she visibly calmed down. They managed to coax her inside and to not call the police and apologized for scaring her. Of course, it was all just an act, but having the actual police becoming involved in this would be annoying and a hinderance.

They sat her down on the couch and Dean pulled out pictures of everyone that she had killed.

"So, Miss … Loretta, do you have any connections with these victims?" Dean asked, pointing to the four pictures.

"I … no, I just knitted them scarves. Why?" She questioned. Her voice was soft and high.

"Because they're all dead." Jake stated.

She flinched. "What? How?"

Dean was done with the pretense. He walked out of the room to retrieve the box, then walked back and set it on the table.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you know." He growled.

She looked at the box and looked back at him, a smile smile forming on her lips. Her eyes flashed black, and she flicked her hand to the side. The two hunters were flung to the left, falling into the bookshelf.

"Hunters, huh? I guess I was a little too 'noticeable' with my latest stunts, heh." She giggled and skipped towards them. Dean felt his split lip and spat out blood. Jake groaned.

"I bet you wanna know what I'm doing, who I'm working for, stuff like that. Well, now that you're here, we'll have _plenty_," She brought her hand up, and the hunters were dragged up the wall, "Of time to talk."

"Get out of her, you black eyed_ bitch." _Jake growled.

She giggled. "Oh, but then we wouldn't be having all this fun! Besides, Emerald here is just the sweetest little meatsuit I've ever been in."

She dropped her hand, and the boys fell. She skipped around, landing on top of her coffee table.

"You wanna know why I chose her? 'Cause she reminds me of what I used to be. Locked up. Imprisoned by my own mind. But now? I'm free." She laughed loudly. "I can do whatever I want!"

"Oh, really?" Dean jumped up and tackled her, knocking them both to the floor. He had caught her by surprise, and he got the upper hand, sitting on top of her, and began throwing punch after punch. He felt her nose break under his fist, the soft flesh of her face splitting open. He felt Jake grab her hands and wrap them up with salted chains, and there was a sizzle and hiss as the metal touched her flesh. Dean clamped a hand over her mouth as she tried to scream.

They soon had her tied up with the chains in one of the chairs, a devil's trap drawn in chalk, and had laid out several methods of demon torture.

"I'll give you one more chance to talk, or I'll get to try out my blade on your face." Dean growled, brandishing Ruby's knife at her. She spat blood in his face, and he slowly straightened up, wiping it off with his sleeve before grabbing an entire cup of holy water and pouring it over her head and into her hair. She screamed and jerked around as the skin on her face smoked and burned. It mixed with her blood and ran into her meatsuit's dress, staining it.

"You see," Dean started, picking up a box of salt, "we thought we were here for a basic witch hunt. Nothing major. But then you had to go and hint that you were working for someone, and, well, you sparked my interest." He flicked the box at her, and some salt poured out and fell on her arms. The skin there hissed and bubbled and she cried out.

"That hurt." She gasped, pouting.

Dean crouched down, and Jake was leaning against the counter, watching from afar. Seeing Dean like this unsettled him.

"I'm gonna give you another chance to tell me what's going on, or you'll understand what 'rubbing salt in your wounds' really feels like." he snarled.

When she didn't say anything, he stood back up and dipped Ruby's knife in holy water, then brought it back to Emerald, cutting a small line down her exposed thigh. She made choking noises, but didn't scream. Dean grabbed the box of salt and held it over the gash, but she just gave him a wide, toothy smile. Her eyes were still black. Dean shook salt out over the wound, and this time, she did scream. He was poised to do it again, but she gasped out a plea.

"WAIT! Wait. Okay." She barked out a bitter laugh, a smile still playing on her lips. "I'll tell you. They'll kill me, but it's better than being stuck with you for another hour." She snorted. "Alistair's promising student."

She spat out blood and a chunk of flesh, and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, they were back to their normal green. She took a deep breath.

"I'm - … I'm working for another demon, and that demon is working for a witch. The witch is working for the Highest." Her maniacal grin was so wide that Jake was afraid the corners of her mouth would split open.

"So - so this "highest" is some anonymous thing giving orders to you all? To, what? Strangle people with their accessories?" Dean questioned, frowning.

She sighed and looked at the ceiling. "All I've ever heard is whispers of the Highest when I was in Hell. Then, the gate opened and I got out. They still whisper about that, you know. The two boys who failed to prevent Azazel from letting us all out. I gotta thank you for that. I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for you." She raised her eyebrows at Dean, whose expression had closed off. All that lay on the surface was anger. His nostrils flared, and he cut another gash into the demon's leg.

She cried out, and slumped forward, gasping. When she sat upright again, her eyes were black.

"I believe I was asking you about what you've been doing, not how you got out. Now speak." The last words were a command.

"Fine, touchy." Her chest was still heaving. "The demon I'm working for told me to take this girl. That's it. I've just been having a little fun with her." The maniac grin was back. When Dean raised his blade, she quickly began talking again. Clearly, she had spent a little too long on the rack.

"Look, I may be higher than some, but they don't tell me anything about what they're doing. I only know the stories. I decided to join in because finding a meatsuit on your own is harder than it looks, okay? They found me this one, and she fits perfectly." She huffed. "Of course, now, I'm gonna have to go and find one on my own again."

"Tell us the stories." Dean growled.

"Really?!" She looked at Jake, who pulled out his own flask of holy water and began unscrewing the cap. "Okay! Okay, fine. There's … there were whispers that the Highest watched Lucifer rise, that she was there during the apocalypse. That she … he, they, whatever, didn't agree with Lucifer. That he was too hotheaded. That she had another plan, and tried to get Lucifer to listen to her, but he blew her off and put a price on her head, so she hid. And while she was hiding, while you two were fighting off the apocalypse, she created a network. And after Lucifer was thrown back into the pit, she assumed command and started handing out orders. They say that they were little things, tiny witch covens run by demons. That once those covens got good enough, they could summon some of the more powerful demons up and out of the pit for her."

"But I don't know what she's planning, or what her name is, or if she's really a she, or what her meatsuit looks like. I take my orders from the demon above me. That's all. I don't ask questions."

_It's jus' one of those feelins' , that something' bigger's going on. _Bobby's words swirled around in his head.

"Well, I do." Dean straightened up and began pouring out another cup of holy water. "What's the demon's name? The one you're working for."

"I don't know." She lied.

Her jaw was forced open and the contents of the cup were poured down her throat. Dean stepped back and watched her gurgle and gag, and with the excess holy water came blood and bits of her esophagus.

"Ariel." She cried. Her voice was rough and scratchy, like sandpaper on sandpaper. "Her name … is Ariel. She's … got blue eyes and blonde hair. Tattoo of a … a star .. behind her ear. Pixie cut." Her breaths were rattling around in her lungs, and she coughed up blood. But her grin returned. It freaked Jake out.

"Just one more thing, uh, Emerald. Tell us, where'd you get those chains? Demon like you, you'd thing you'd toss the salt, too. But it was closet. Why is that?" Jake asked, stepping up alongside Dean.

She looked up and giggled, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. "You're not the only one hunting demons, you know."

"What?" Dean barked, feeling like she still hadn't told him everything. But she just grinned at him, eyes wide. He watched as she tilted her head, and he was suddenly and horribly reminded of fallen!Cas, with the haunted, empty smile. She just tilted her head more, feeding off his discomfort. Jake looked from Dean to Emerald, sensing that there was something he wasn't getting. Just as she was opening her mouth, Dean plunged the blade into her neck, and Jake watched in shock as her entire body lit up and flickered several times with orange light. She jerked and then slumped forward.

Dean yanked his blade from her neck, and wiped it off with a rag on the counter, not speaking.

"So .. So what was that - that - that flashy, light thing when you stabbed her?" Jake asked, still staring at the body, where a small pool of blood was forming.

"That, was the demon inside of her dying."

"Wait, dying? Not just … getting sent back to hell?"

"Yeah, dying. That's what this knife does. It kills them."

"Oh. Well." Jake ran a hand through his hair. A thought occurred to him. "Wait, how are we supposed to meet up with the others?"

Dean finished wiping off the blade and tucked it back into his suit coat. He turned his head skyward and yelled, "Cas, c'mon. We're ready to go."

There was no answer. Dean looked around, confusion evident. "Cas!"

They waited another minute. Dean looked worried. He closed his eyes and bowed his head in prayer.

"Castiel, Angel of the Lord, I'm begging for your ass. Get down here already." They sat there, and five minutes passed.

"I - uh, I don't think he's coming." Jake murmured. Dean frowned.

"He always comes … He said he would come when I called."

"Yeah, well, maybe he's tangled up in angel business or whatever. C'mon, let's just call Sam and tell them about the witch."

Dean sucked in a big breath and let it out slowly. He nodded, still looking troubled, and got up. He walked towards the door and checked for anyone that might be walking by. There wasn't any, so he and Jake slipped out, locking the door behind themselves with the keys they snatched from her purse. Dean flipped open his phone and punched in Bobby's number. It went to voicemail.

"Look, Bobby, I know I just called you, but you were right. There's something else going on here. I'll call you again later when I meet up with Sam, but, Bobby, I think this is a serious threat. As in, apocalyptic big. Call me back." He ended the call and typed in Sam's number. It was picked up on the third ring.

"What?"

"Hey, Sam, where are you?"

"Near the front entrance, why?"

"Cas, uh, Cas had to leave." Dean had no idea why he was covering for Cas. Jake's look didn't help either. They reached a stairwell and started to descend to the lower floors.

"Oh. Well, uh, we're next to the front desk. We'll wait for you."

Dean hung up. He didn't tell Sam that he had to ask for directions.

* * *

"Brother?" Castiel called, confused as to why he was called to an empty room. The walls of the room were teal and the carpet was an ugly shade of brown, and there were no lights, but Castiel couldn't sense any of his brothers or sisters nearby.

He tried to take a step forward, but found that he couldn't.

"Wha-" Cas tried to extend his wings and leave the room, but there was a sharp pain in his back and he fell to the floor. He looked back to see his wings being bound with magic, and the more he tried to move them, the more they hurt. It was ancient magic, older than Castiel himself. It wound it's way around Cas' waist and then down to his ankles, while another golden tendril wrapped itself around Cas' wrists. He was forced to his knees, a tentacle of the magic fusing with his halo. Castiel was stuck, captured, and the more he tried to move, the sharper the pains got.

He suddenly sensed a presence in the room, one that should have been long gone. He looked up to see a familiar figure leaning against the far wall.

"Hey, baby bro."

"Gabriel." Castiel gasped.


	7. The Explanation

"Gabriel." Castiel gasped.

"The one and only."

"What -" Castiel tried to move again, only to jerk back when agonizing pain shot from his head all the way down to his spine. "What is this?" He gasped. He wasn't familiar with the magic that had bound him, and he had been around for a long time. A really long time.

"A safety measure." Gabriel replied, stepping forward and snapping his fingers. The room lit up, but not by much. Castiel was able to see the circle that he was caught in, surrounded by symbols that he didn't recognize.

"And why would you need one?" Castiel asked, suddenly nervous. His brother's intentions were shady at the best of times, and having lived among humans for such a length of time made him unpredictable. His archangel status didn't help much, either.

"Because, Castiel, I am trying to help you. And I know how much you like to follow orders." A lollipop materialized in his hand; he walked over to the wall and leaned against it, unwrapping the lolly and sticking it in his mouth. He crumpled up the wrapper and looked up at Castiel.

"Help me with what, exactly?"

Gabriel sighed. "You really are blind, aren't you."

A giant TV popped into existence a few feet in front of Cas, with an accompanying Lay-z Boy next to him. Gabriel sauntered over and plopped himself into it, exhaling loudly and grabbing a TV remote off the arm of the chair. He pointed it at the flatscreen and it clicked on, and suddenly squabbling voices filled the air as a program started up in the middle of an episode.

"What is this?" Castiel ground out, glancing up at his brother from the corner of his eye.

"Say Yes To The Dress." Gabe replied, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' before licking it and sticking it back in. Cas grimaced.

"Are you going to inform me of why I was brought and bound here? Or are you going to keep watching this … this … reality television?" He growled, feeling the body that he was inhabiting begin to cramp up, in a disconnected sort of way. He was still on his knees, and he was having trouble not bowing his head. The glowing golden bonds were still wrapped around his wrists and ankles, and the tiniest movement of his limbs caused pain to shoot up his spine.

"I think I'm gonna finish this episode first."

So there the two angels sat (or crouched, in Castiel's case), watching female humans bicker over white dresses that were somehow important in a ceremony that bonded two beings together, usually for a couple years. Castiel found it beautiful, in a twisted sort of way, the weight these women put on fabric that had been stitched and draped a certain way. Gabriel said it was amusing watching them scream at each other over a dress that only one of them would be wearing.

They were ten minutes in before Castiel heard a faint and familiar voice.

"Cas, c'mon. We're ready to go."

"Cas!"

The words left a faint ringing in his ears, and he forgot all about the television show in front of him as his thoughts turned directly to Dean. Dean was waiting for him. Dean needed him. What was he to do?

He was about to plead with Gabriel for his release, but another prayer ripped through him, this one directed to Castiel and Castiel only.

"Castiel, Angel of the Lord, I'm begging for your ass. Get down here already."

He flinched and then gasped, feeling the sharp stabbing pain of the restraints and Dean's disappointment begin to flood the bond. Dean may not have the physical evidence anymore, but when Castiel grabbed him by the shoulder in Hell, he had directed a pulse of grace into Dean's soul, to stop him from struggling. He had inadvertently created a bond, and by doing so, opened Castiel up to human emotions. He had been polluted by it, as Hester had said, and at times despised the thing.

Gabriel had heard Dean's first call, however faintly, and had turned around at Castiel's gasp. He was staring at him, and when Cas opened his eyes again, he cocked his head in question.

"Dean. I need to go to Dean." Castiel gasped, and Gabriel sadly shook his head and got up.

"See, little bro, I'm here to teach you a lesson. And to do that, I have to keep you from leaving." He walked towards the flatscreen, lights dimming slightly as he did so.

Cas watched him with confused eyes. He had no idea what he was supposed to be learning here, other than the fact that Gabriel was damn good at playing dead.

He muted the TV and turned back to Castiel. He grinned, and posed in a sort of - "okay, you got me"- way, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. When Castiel didn't react, he huffed and pointed to the symbols and circle surrounding the younger angel.

"That's an angel trap."

Castiel's eyes widened in disbelief. No, it couldn't possibly be - Cas had no knowledge of angel traps. They simply didn't exist.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and pointed at himself. "Helloo? Archangel? God's first children?" He sighed and let his hand drop. He approached the trap, careful not to step on the symbols.

"You see, Cas, when God first created the archangels, He knew that Lucifer was different. He knew he loved God, and only God, unconditionally. He created him that way mostly on purpose, to see if He was fit to control beings that didn't like control. And He created the angel trap, and once He realized that Lucifer was not going to be as worshipping," The angel shuddered at the word, "or as reverent to our Father's children as we were, He ordered us to try and catch him as best as we could. We all failed of course, or at least that's what He thought, and Lucifer fell into Hell. He erased the knowledge from our minds, and created you guys. You guys were the ultimate children. You worshipped Him like he had wanted, did His work for Him when he was tired.

"But, ya see, I did catch little old Luci. I never told Him, and as he was off creating Earth, it didn't seem right to interrupt. I caught Luci, but then … while I was waiting for Him to take a break from the homo sapiens and whatnot, Lucifer just talked. And talked, and talked, and talked. He was the one who first planted the little seed of free will in my mind." He tapped his temple and started to pace. "I didn't agree with him when it came to the humans, no. I actually liked the little hairless apes. But he warned me, that Father was a perfectionist, and would try and wipe out any little stain that popped up on his spotless white robe. I'll admit it, I was intrigued. I took his advice and wrote down some of the more important spells. Then, after the fall, some bitch named Naomi came and found some of them and burned them, pretty much. The only one I have left is the angel trap."

Castiel's brain was struggling to keep up with the knowledge Gabriel was handing over. It was very well plausible that Gabriel was telling the truth.

"Oh, I'm telling the truth alright." Gabe answered. He looked down at the angel trap again, this time with regret. He winced at every gasp Castiel emitted. He gestured loosely to the circle.

"The reason it … hurts so much is because it's designed for an archangel." He explained, looking vaguely sorry for the pain that Castiel was forced to endure.

"You still haven't explained why I'm here. I need to go to Dean." Cas gasped.

Gabriel sighed and shook his head. He turned on his heel, grabbed the TV remote, and started flipping through channels. "That's why you're here, cupid. You're here because of Dean."

Castiel ignored the cupid comment. "Because … of Dean?"

"Yes, you dumbass! Have you seriously never noticed that you feel human emotions a lot stronger than the rest of us?"

"I thought it was … because of our bond. The one Dean has no knowledge of."

"Yes…" Gabriel pushed, gesticulating wildly with his hands.

"Your trapping me here has something to do with the bond?" Castiel asked, clearly confused again.

" … More or less. You're getting there."

Castiel huffed, frustrated. "I don't understand what Dean, or our bond, has to do with this."

Gabriel sighed and put the remote down, some cartoon playing silently behind him.

"Do you remember Kali? And how I felt for her?"

"Yes.."

"I loved her as much as an angel could. We were created to love Him, and only Him. I could love her, but it was hollow compared to how much I was supposed to love Him. I couldn't love her enough. But you - you little anomaly, Cas. You can love like a human can. You can love someone more than you can love Him."

"And why is this important to why you trapped me here?" Castiel growled, clearly fed up with Gabriel's guessing game. But Gabe wasn't done yet.

"Do you care about Dean, Castiel?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"I …" He frowned and thought for a moment. "It is impossible to gauge how much I care for him."

"Would you die for him?" Gabriel questioned, a glint in his eye.

"I have, already." Was the reply.

"Do you, Castiel, love him?"

This stopped him.

"I - I'm not sure." He whipped his head up to Gabriel, causing him to hiss in pain. "How am I to know that?"

"Do you feel for him what you once felt for our Father?"

" … I believe I do, yes."

"Ding Ding Ding! We have a winner!" Confetti began to rain down, disappearing as soon as it hit something solid.

"But I still don't understand."

The confetti stopped entirely.

"You -?!" Gabriel threw a hand to his face, groaning. After a moment, he let his hand drop.

"Okay, look. Would you want to be in a relationship with him? Like, a real, fulfilling relationship? Nothing like this pining from afar shit."

"Human and angel relations are forbidden."

Gabriel stopped mid-word, finger in the air. "Oh. Right, that."

He frowned for a moment, then grinned sheepishly.

"Well, the main reason that was created was because giving birth to nephilim was extremely dangerous, and usually killed the mother." He stopped smiling, his eyes going dark with old memories. Castiel knew what he was thinking about. Gabriel had once had many, many nephilim children.

"But seeing as Dean's a dude, and probably can't get pregnant, this shouldn't be breaking any rules."

Castiel stared at him. "Even so, Dean is only interested in women. I find it hard to believe he would ever be willing to enter a relationship with me."

Gabriel smirked. "Okay, 1) you need to brush up on your Winchester history, and 2) I would suggest you get a new vessel, but I don't think that would fly with them." He stared at his little brother. "Dean cares about you a lot more than you realize. He's just horrible at expressing it." He said softly.

Cas attempted to shake his head, but instead froze up and gasped in pain. A drop of blood slowly dripped down from his nose.

Gabriel returned to flipping through the channels, finally finding the one he wanted. He turned and flopped down onto the Lay-Z Boy, a platter of cheeses materializing in his lap. He unmuted the television, and the purr of the Impala filled the room.

"I'm starting to think the Firebird is better than the Impala." Sam commented, stepping out of the Impala with Dean. Dean looked personally offended, and pet the side of Baby lovingly.

"He didn't mean that baby, you know he didn't."

"What is this?" Castiel gasped, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Channel 153. Otherwise known as Winchester Central."

* * *

"He didn't mean that baby, you know he didn't."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.

"See, I told you Dean! SEXY IS BETTER THAN BABY!" Jake shouted from a few feet away. They had pulled into some lot, all deciding to go out for lunch to catch up.

"Whatever, you're just jealous!" Dean shouted back, grinning like a madman. Sam stared at him in amazement. He hadn't seen Dean like this in years. Decades, almost.

"Oh, please!" Jake yelled, catching up to them. "Everyone knows Firebirds are way more fabulous than Impalas. And mine's custom."

Dean started making his way towards the diner, and elbowed him in the side. "Whatever lets you sleep at night!"

Jake gasped and shoved him. "You dick!" They raced to the door and pushed and smacked and kicked each other, trying to get the door open and through before the other did.

"Children, children - please!" Garth shouted, and they stopped, mid-fight. Garth opened the door, and Sam walked in, feeling slightly amazed. "If you idjits are done fighting, get in here so we can eat!"

They both stared at him before untangling themselves and walking in, one by one, discreetly hitting and kicking each other.

Sam heard a whispered "Ow!" and a "You fucker!", and turned around, glaring at them. They looked like two kindergardeners caught fighting, both staring at Sam with wide eyes. He stared at them for a few seconds, before turning to greet the bored looking employee. She directed them to a table for four.

They all ordered the usual, burgers for Dean and Jake, salad for Sam, and wings for Garth.

"So where'd Cas fly off to? It seemed like he wanted to hang around." Sam asked, staring at Dean over his beer. Jake avoided his gaze, and Garth was glancing between the three. The easy atmosphere had thickened.

Dean swallowed the bit of burger he had been eating, and said, "I, uh, I don't know. He said he had to go visit Heaven or something. Said he'd be back soon." He picked up his beer and took a swig, choosing to study the label rather than meet Sam's stare.

"Um, well, did you try praying to him? I bet he'd love to join us-"

"Yeah, I prayed to him, alright? He didn't answer. He's probably busy."

This was met with silence. Dean sighed. "So. Garth. How's Bobby?"

"Just as good a he usually is. Seemed a little more grumpy, though. Said he was tracking something he was worried about."

Dean frowned at his burger, and the waitress came by and dropped off more beers. Bobby was worried? Bobby?

_"Boy, it's jus' one of those feelins'."_

"Do you know what he was tracking?" Dean questioned.

"Demons? Witches? Hot Ladies?" He snickered at his own joke, then sobered up. "I don't know, man. I only saw the setup a couple of times. He kept it downstairs, said it was top secret." Garth replied, twisting the top off his beer. Dean leaned over and snatched it out of his hand, taking a swig and setting it down in front of his plate.

"Hey!"

"No." Dean glared at him.

Garth pouted.

"Look man, I'm not going to be the one carrying you home to the motel tonight." Dean stated, taking another swig.

"So you've had to deal with that too?" Jake chuckled.

Dean snorted. "Drunk off one Thighslapper back when we were hunting some vengeful booze spirit or some shit."

Jake nodded, then shrugged. "At least he didn't puke in your car."

Dean winced in sympathy.

"That was one time!" Garth exclaimed.

"Yeah, and you were too hungover the next day to clean it up!"

"You said you'd skin me alive if I came anywhere near your car!"

"That's because you _puked in it!"_

"That's because you challenged me to a drinking contest!"

"You said you were "totally up" to going to that strip club! How was I supposed to know you were a lightweight?"

"How was I supposed to know it was a _male_ strip club?"

Sam choked on his beer.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, it just surprised me, but - you - you offered me the alcohol!"

"You could have just _told me you couldn't hold your booze_!"

Garth huffed and slumped back in his seat. Jake rolled his eyes. This was obviously a ongoing argument.

Sam cleared his throat. "So, Jake, how do you know Dean? We never got the full story." He didn't know anything about him, other than he was old friends with Dean. And liked male strip clubs.

"We're … old friends." Dean responded, sharing a glance with Jake.

"Yeah, but, Dean - you said so yourself that you didn't have friends. You haven't even mentioned this guy until today."

Dean sighed and dropped the fries he was holding.

"Old _hunting partners, _okay?"

Jake motioned Dean towards him and whispered something in his ear, and suddenly Dean was throwing his head back in laughter. Sam stared at him in shock. He hadn't seen him laugh like this since … well, since forever, really. His laughter subsided, but then he glanced at Jake again, who waggled his eyebrows, and he collapsed into a fit of giggles, his head in his arms.

It took him a couple of minutes, but he finally got himself under control. He noticed Sam staring at him.

"We were- we were old hunting partners for a while. While you were at Stanford."

Jake frowned at Sam. "Did you really let the Devil take control of you as a vessel?"

Dean froze with a handful of fries inches away from his mouth. Sam was wearing his poker face.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's true." He said quietly.

"What was it like?"

"What was having _Satan_ inside my body like?" Sam asked incredulously. Jake just nodded.

"Wow. Uh - cold. Really cold. Like getting freezer burn." Jake just nodded and stole one of Dean's fries. Sam blinked a couple times and took a gulp of beer.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.

"And what have you been doing all these years? I already told you about me." Dean questioned Jake, ready to stab the hunter's hand with his fork if he tried to take another fry.

"Not much compared to you guys." He shrugged. "I hunted. Stopped by bars and heard stories about you. I could hardly believe they were talking about the same Winchester."

Dean snorted and pushed back his now clean plate. He was ready for pie.

Sam turned to Garth. "So where are you guys heading next?" He asked. He sort of wanted Jake to stick around, since he seemed to make Dean a hell of a lot happier. But the guy gave him the creeps. It was like he had some sort of sick fascination with him. Satan's vessel? Who asked those kinds of questions?

"I guess we'll stick around for a little while, find a new job." He replied. Jake nodded in agreement. "What about you two?"

"Probably head up to Bobby's." Sam answered.

A waitress was walking past their table when Dean flagged her down. She walked up to them, a smile plastered on her face.

"Can I get you gents anything?"

"Ah, yeah. I'll have a slice of apple pie-" He looked at Garth, who nodded. "Two slices of apple pie - Sam, you want anything?"

"Just more water."

"Okay, anything else?" She jotted down their orders, looking around the table at the empty dishes. She seemed exhausted.

Jake elbowed Dean in the ribs. "You didn't tell her what _I_ wanted, Winchester."

"Oh right. One kiddie's meal-" Jake kicked him under the table and he cursed.

"Ow - _fuck, _you jackass, fine. One order of large fries."

"Don't swear in front of the lady, Dean." Garth scolded. Dean just huffed and looked up at the waitress, who was staring at them with wide eyes.

"Wait, Winchester? Dean and Sam Winchester?" She gasped, dirty plates and orders forgotten.

"Uh … yeah?" Sam replied looking alarmed.

"I'm - I'm sorry, my dad was friends with Rufus, he told me about you guys all the time -" She let out a nervous giggle and tucked a loose hair behind her ear. "It's just - you're just what I need. Oh, my goodness, thank god you guys are here."

"Rufus told you about us?"

"Oh! No, no. My dad did. It's kind of freaky seeing you guys in person. You're - You're much more handsome than I imagined." She gave a shaky smile.

"Uh, thanks. But - what do you mean by, 'we're just what you need'?" Sam asked, giving her an easy but confused smile back.

"There's - " She took a deep breath and looked behind her shoulder. She began picking up their plates, talking fast. "There's a witch coven meeting a couple of miles north outside of town. It's big- it's really big. There's almost a dozen people in it. I don't know what they're doing, but it doesn't sound good. I'm really scared."

"And you're not in the life?" Jake asked her, looking concerned.

"No - no, not at all." The bags underneath her eyes looked more pronounced. "My dad and my brother died in the life."

"Oh." They knew what it was like.

"We're sorry. Truly, we are." Garth placed a hand on her arm, and patted it. "Thanks for the information. We'll check it out for sure."

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you. Thanks so much." She turned, but then spun around. "Oh, and two pies, a water, and fries, right?"

"You got it." Dean grinned, then turned back to their group. "Witch coven?"

"It's worth looking into." Sam responded.

Dean had to agree.


End file.
